after life
by DragonsDeadAndDancing
Summary: (because sometimes it's easier to run than to face your demons) (and angels) Liara/FemShep, post-ME3, Destroy, Omega.


_AN: A FemShep/Liara piece based on the red ending. I haven't played the Omega DLC but I figure the Afterlife would've survived even the Reapers. So…femslash, spoilers for ME3, BioWare owns Mass Effect. Edited 1 day later to fix a formatting issue (now I know why geth don't use Windows...)._

Omega.

An asteroid, hollowed out and then filled again with vorcha and turian, asari, krogan, humans and salarians, crowded in dimly lit corridors, protected from the dreadful emptiness of space only by thin metal walls. Law is made by those with the guns to enforce it. It's a wild place, a place for the strong, those bold enough to walk with their scarred heads held high and proudly while the weak are crushed underneath. Where pirates and smugglers meet mercenaries and bounty-hunters, life is near impossible.

Yet they say you've never been alive until you've been to Afterlife.

The club is the epitome of Omega's paradox: where death is so close, you feel alive; where oppression rules, freedom is possible; where poverty is, riches wait behind the next door.

Ruby-coloured light fills the club's halls and paints everything red and black: the customers, their drinks, the sticky floor. Against the spotlights the asari strippers are only lithe shadows as they wind and swirl around the poles on high heels, above the crowd to give everyone a good view. More than a few moans escape the spectators' mouths at their performance but are swallowed by booming music that vibrates too loud and too deep through the bodies crammed on the dancefloor. As dreadful as it sounds, the customers are beyond caring.

Afterlife is a drug of its own. It promises joy and freedom and oblivion for a few hours, all floating in the thick, stale air, lying just under the hot, sweaty skin of the bodies around, mixed in the hundreds of drinks, echoing in the powerful music as it thrums through the customers.

Afterlife is a palace, a dirty, loud, depraved palace but a palace nonetheless. And Aria T'Loak is the queen, watching her subjects from an elevated throne, protected by the guns of her guards.

The Afterlife is too crammed with people for anyone to notice a single asari added to the mass. Her slim frame weaves through the crowd as if she were a ghost.

The asari, her blue skin coloured purple by the lights above, approaches the dais. For a moment she stands motionless as the life swirls around her, a forlorn expression on her face that is noticed by none.

A body slams into her fragile form, pushes her off-balance and she almost falls. The intoxicated batarian shouts something, rudely shoves the asari aside and continues on his way.

So does the asari. Slowly but firmly she sets a straight course for one of the guards. A female human, judging by the tight armour; it seems to be fashioned from some kind of grey chitin, though that could as well be synthetic. The woman holds a sleek black sub-machine gun at the ready.

Elliptic yellow lenses stare from the expressionless artificial face at the asari, who stops only inches from the guard.

"You," says the asari, and that one word holds more emotions than a thousand more could. Anger, hurt, relief, happiness, hate, fury, disappointment, hope.

The human doesn't react in any way.

"Five years. It took me five years to find you – I thought – How could you?" The asari's voice is near inaudible through the heavy bass.

The guard activates her communicator. "Grizz? Yeah, it's me. Cover for me, I'm taking a few hours off." A pause, then: "That wasn't a question."

"Come," she says to the asari without a second glance at her. The human moves with a natural ease through the crowd; people step aside even before they notice her weapon and the asari easily follows her out of the club.

The human leads the asari to an empty back alley; it's rather clean for Omega's standards but even so, the station's walls are covered in graffiti and a thick layer of filth softens every footfall.

With a few touches on a battered panel, a door slides open. The asari follows the guard inside and the door closes behind them again with a slight hiss.

The apartment is small and strangely impersonal. There is no decoration of any kind, no holos, pictures, sculptures, books. One bed, one chair, an old console, a half-assembled gun lying atop a workbench, a dozen small bottles lined up atop an otherwise empty shelf.

The human sits down heavily at the edge of the bed and gestures for the asari to take the chair but she doesn't move.

"Five years."

The human lowers her head and doesn't answer.

"Five years and you couldn't even tell me you were still alive?"

"It's not that easy, Liara."

"Oh, it was easy for you. You weren't the one who kept telling people, 'Shepard is alive, Shepard has made it, Shepard has escaped just as she always did, you'll see, in a few days she's back with us, don't you worry.' And then the days became weeks and years and…" Liara trails off.

"For what's worth, I'm sorry." But Shepard doesn't sound apologetic. There is a trace of defiance in her voice.

"Then why have you been hiding?" Silence. "Because in these five years…I'm the Shadow Broker, yet I haven't heard any indication of your survival until two weeks ago! I would've waited for you if you just-" Liara stops with a gasp as Shepard takes off her helmet.

The ex-Spectre smiles wryly. "Not pretty, huh? The Crucible destroyed not only the Reapers but also fried my implants. Honestly, I'm barely fit enough to hold my gun and look intimidating for Aria."

"So what?" says Liara, unconsciously taking a small step in Shepard's direction.

"Liara, I'm sorry but I…" Shepard grimaces slightly. "It's complicated. I'm not who I was five years ago and I never will be again."

"Just because of some scars?" Liara sits next to Shepard, entwines her slim blue fingers with the human's. "Who cares about scars? I don't. I never have. I never will."

Shepard pulls her hand free. "I don't want back."

Liara stares startled.

"Here on Omega I have everything I need: ammo, a place to sleep, an endless supply of targets, purpose, freedom. It's maybe not glamorous but simple and good. After everything I'm so _tired_ of the life I used to have. I no longer want to play."

"Is this really what you want?" asks Liara quietly. "A dirty hole where nobody knows your name or will grieve when you finally die?"

"Yes!" Shepard jumps to her feet.

Liara's face falls into a strange expression. "What should I tell Tyena, then?"

Shepard's brow wrinkles in confusion. "Tyena?"

"Our daughter."

For a moment Shepard stands frozen, then she starts to shake violently. She takes a few steps and collapses, hitting the floor with a loud _thump_.

"Shepard!" Liara crouches next to her, helps the human to get to her feet, supports her weigh as she stumbles to the shelf. Shepard's trembling fingers knock some bottles over as she reaches for one. She clumsily unscrews it, pulls something out, and lets it drop to the floor where it spills automated syringes on the cold ground.

Shepard presses the syringe against the side of her neck and slowly relaxes as the medicine pours into her body. As soon as the device is empty she lets it drop and collapses on the bed with a groan.

"Shepard? Are you…"

"Tyena."

"Yes."

The human chuckles weakly. "Are there any other surprises waiting for me? Please tell me now or you don't have to worry about me anymore."

Liara almost smiles. "No. Just Tyena." She takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry I startled you. Had I known…"

"Announcing you weaknesses doesn't improve your chance of survival on Omega. It's okay. That's what I have the meds for." Shepard slowly sits up. "I almost died there on the Citadel. It collapsed, you know. When the Crucible…I was lying under a pile of rubble that slowly crushed my ribcage; I couldn't breathe, only die and think, hope anyone would come for me.

"Aria's men found me, patched me up, reanimated me when my heart gave out. Twice. They brought me to her, and she used what resources were left to fix me. When I was more or less recovered I helped her take back Omega and then I just…stayed. I was – I _am_ – weak as a kitten. I thought maybe it wouldn't be so bad. Repaying the favour and then quietly die someday fighting."

"Quietly?" asks Liara with a weak smile. "You were never one for quiet."

"No." Shepard smiles. "Tyena. What's she like?"

"Clever, loud, adventurous, hard to keep under control. She keeps nosing through my files even though she understands a quarter of it at the most. And she has your temper. She always asks about you."

"Sounds dreadful. Maybe I shouldn't come with you." But there's a smile on Shepard's face, a genuine, happy, warm smile, and her eyes are sparkling.

"So you _are_ coming with me."

"Who would I be if I didn't at least try?" Shepard gently reaches for Liara's hands. "I never should have stayed away. I should have returned immediately. I will be sorry for the rest of my life."

"Don't. It's alright now." Liara smiles, and her hand gently caresses the side of Shepard's face. "But please stay with me – with us."

"I will. Give me two standard days to wrap up my business and I'm all yours, promise."

Shepard tries to stand up but Liara keeps their hands clasped together tightly. The asari leans forward and kisses the human gently. "Two days," she murmurs.

"Promise."

* * *

"Gavron?"

The turian turns as he hears his name. "Shepard. What do you need?"

She beckons for him to follow her into a deserted docking booth. Captain Gavron notices she's carrying a bag. They stop in front of an old, slightly battered but still serviceable one-man ship. Somebody has sprayed _Puddle Jumper_ in thick red letters over the old paint.

Gavron can feel the eyes behind the lenses settle on his. "Can you do me a favour?"

"'course. I still owe you for the last clean-up in the plaza."

Shepard shifts uneasily. "I have to leave. Please…" She raises a hand even before he can ask. "…I can't explain it. Somebody…a young asari, blue eyes, probably wearing a white combat suit…will come looking for me."

"Should I-"

"No! Just…if you meet her tell her I'm sorry, and give her this." The human pulls a datapad from her bag. "Her vessel is the _Gateship_ , docking bay twelve."

Gavron takes the pad. "Of course. I'll just stay on duty till I've met her. When are you coming back?"

Shepard slightly shakes her head. "Thank you, Gavron."

"Sure, Shepard. Good luck."

The turian waits until the _Puddle Jumper_ has vanished in the depths of space before activating the datapad. A short message flickers on the orange screen.

 _I'm sorry. I can't do this. I can't explain why. I'm sorry. I will always love you._

 _Jeanne_


End file.
